Homecoming
by kirby1991
Summary: A/U, focusing on Finn's homecoming. A few of the plots of the show tweaked to fit the purposes of this story. One-shot.


Homecoming

The New York skyline was starting to shimmer, as was its nightly ritual. Even when the sun went down, most of the people didn't. In fact, everything seemed to be more hustle and bustle. It was a prime time for hot dog vendors, and the occasional drug dealer to lurk around on street corners, asking passersby if they wanted the "midnight special". For that very reason, Rachel Berry made sure her rape whistle was easily accessible. She had the lungs of any veteran operatic singer, but her frame might have made you believe otherwise. She was good at surprising people.

She stepped into her apartment, having to push the two-ton door open. It took nearly all of her strength, but she was improving. Even with her morning workout routine, it was still difficult. She checked her mailbox. Nothing. No letters, not even a bill. That was surprising, she thought. Her apartment was surprisingly cheap to furnish, and the utilities were even cheaper. Between her and Kurt, they each only spent about two-hundred dollars a month.

Most nights, she came home alone. This night was no different. Kurt was out doing some interning thing for _Vogue Magazine. _He stayed busy. It was what Rachel wanted for him. He hadn't been droning on and on about Blaine for a few days. She loved them both, but listening to him rant about how much he missed _his _boyfriend while she was still clearly hurting seemed a bit insensitive, at least to her.

The lights were off, which was odd. Her and Kurt agreed to the lights-on rule. It would deter burglars and drug dealers. (At least in their minds.) She smiled to herself at the serenity of their home. She could still hear the cars and buzz of the city, but it was oddly therapeutic to her. It even put her to sleep some nights; that, and the thought that she might very well cause a public scene by stepping out into public. She was always dreaming of ways to attract paparazzi.

She stumbled in the dark for light. The only place they had a light source was in the kitchen, but it easily lit their whole loft. As she moved, she heard a second set of footsteps and froze. "K-Kurt?" she asked, her usual tan face paling considerably. "Kurt, is that you?" The footsteps stopped. Concealed by the darkness, she grabbed a frying pan she'd forgotten to wash that morning. "Kurt…" she warned, knowing in her heart it wasn't him.

Her hand shakily found the light and tugged the switch. _Whew._ No one there. What a relief. For a moment. She felt a pair of oversized hands grab her shoulders, and in an instant, she turned around and whammed the figure right in the face. More specifically, the left eye. _KABOOM! _The 6'3" figure hit the ground with a loud thud, and an even louder shriek from Rachel.

She immediately knelt down beside her once-lost love, Finn Hudson. He was now unconscious and sporting a very noticeable - but all the more attractive - black eye. "Finn?!" she asked, surprised that it was him, and even more surprised she wailed him in the face with a frying pan. She looked at her weapon in horror before tossing it aside, carefully working her way to his side, supporting his head in her lap. "Oh my god," she mumbled, frightened and sorrowful. "Finn," she said, her hands gently caressing his cheeks. "Can you hear me?"

He began chuckling. "Pretty lady…" he mumbled, a bit of drool finding its way down his face. She shook her head and continued the gesture, seeing it was somewhat bringing him back. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice quiet. He couldn't hear completely, at least not at this point. He shook off - or tried to shake off - the concussion he'd no doubt just received. Carefully, he sat up, in pain. "What the hell?" he asked, blinking himself back into clear vision. "_That's _the hello I get?" He paused and grinned devilishly. "I was hoping you'd bang me, but not like that." He chuckled, taking a safe step back from her.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You know I didn't do it on purpose," she said and stood with him, carefully smoothing out her skirt. He stared at her legs for a moment before getting back to the subject. "You look…" He paused, short on words. The frying pan probably didn't help. She blushed a little, fully expecting a compliment. Instead, she got a hug. A big one. She blinked a few times before wrapping her arms around him. "You're in uniform," she said quietly, pulling away to look up at him. "But you're not in camp. O-or overseas, or wherever they're going to send you."

As if he was expecting it, his jaw clenched a little. "No," he finally said. "I'm not." He sighed. _Screw it,_ he said to himself. He wasn't going to get the sixth degree from her. "I got hurt, and they sent me home." He wandered for a moment before resting against the counter. "Told me not to come back." He looked away, embarrassed. "And I didn't know where else to go. My mom and Burt…" He trailed off. "I just didn't know what to do."

He looked back at her, able to see the worry in her eyes. "Not badly hurt," he went onto explain. "Just enough for them to consider me a liability, or whatever." He shrugged his shoulders as if the whole scenario didn't bug him. She nodded in understanding, not really saying much. He didn't seem to change. The Finn that left her would have done the same thing.

There was an obvious - and pretty awkward - tension in the room now. He knew something. "So…this guy," he finally said, getting down to business. She froze. _**Brody? **_she thought. They hadn't had relations - at least of the sexual nature. Sure, they kissed. And he was a good kisser, but she was a good kisser, so that didn't seem to matter. She shook her head a little, as if she was silently asking him not to continue the question.

"I was at NYADA earlier," he said flatly. "Stopped by. Got the address from Kurt." He paused. "Yeah, he knew." He smiled, though it was more of a foolish one. Now he felt like an idiot. "Had flowers and that sparkling cider you like so much." He looked back at her, her head now hanging in thought. "You were, uh, canoodling." He shivers at his choice of words. "That's what Figgins would call it." He smiled. "Remember Figgins? Anyway…" She giggled. "Of course I remember Figgins. I paid weekly visits to his office, just to refresh him of the news in the ACLU." She tucked her hair back and he grinned. "_Anyway,_" he said to continue. "I just kind of left. And Kurt told me how to get here. I've been hanging out all day." He plays with a spoon, his bottom lip poking out in thought. "I cleaned up a little for you. Was gonna cook something for you, but then I remembered I can't cook." His face now formed into a frown before he began to pace.

"God, what is wrong with me?" he asked, almost to no one. His hands were on his hips and his frame was square. He lost all of his so-called baby fat and toned down. There was now muscle definition on his arms, and she couldn't help but stare when he wasn't looking. "That dude's gotta bench at least two-hundred," he said, his back facing her. "And he probably has a voice like Bon Jon Jovi," he said angrily. She chuckled again. "_Jon Bon Jovi,"_ she corrected gently. He ignored this. "What am I? I-I come here and cook for you and I can't even do that!" He slung an empty carton of eggs off the counter. "You'll need more of those," he said, pointing to the trashcan. "Those were our fallen comrades."

She shook her head and cautiously approached him, her hands running down his back. "We're just friends," she tried to assure him, though he kept his back to her. She pressed her lips against his shirt for a moment, trying to soothe him. What had the military done to him? He seemed so out-of-whack. "I mean…" She hesitated. "He kissed me, once, but that's as far as we ever went." She cleared her throat. "I told him to leave after." She looked down, keeping her hands on his shoulder blades. "So I guess I can understand why you'd be hurt."

Though she couldn't see it, he had on a thoughtful face. Most girls would have dropped their undies in a heartbeat for this guy, but not her. All of the anger he was feeling was starting to melt away. Slowly, he turned around, where her head found its home, He cupped the back of it, resting his chin there for a moment. "I missed you," he mumbled. She turned her gaze up, giving him doe eyes. "You have no idea how much I missed you." Her hand reached up and gently caressed over his bruise. "I'm sorry for nearly giving you a cracked skull," she said with her sorriest expression.

He stifled a chuckle. "I probably could have warned you-" was all he could get out before she'd pulled him down into a kiss. She was expecting one long before this. She wanted it _now. _His eyes widened for a brief moment before his eyes fell closed. His hands scooped under her smooth legs to pick her up, her legs wrapping around his muscular frame.

He lost balance for a moment and began waddling around the kitchen, knocking the silverware and spices over. He spun around, sitting her on the stove. All of its contents were immediately dropped as well. Her hands slid and cupped his face gently, and they both deepened the kiss a bit before he paused, pulling back. "I just cleaned the stove," he said before picking her up, carrying her into where he thought her room was. She shrieked upon realizing that it was Kurt's bed. _"Not in here," she gently demanded. He picked her up again and stumbled back into the hallway, her slender arm pointing him in the direction he needed to go. _

_Before she knew it, she was back on her bed. They both hit the mattress with a gentle thud, their lips attaching again. She was awfully frisky. Maybe that's what four months without a little Finn lovin' did? he thought. He slid his hands down her thighs and immediately found the buttons on her top, popping each one masterfully. Using a gun improved his dexterity and his concentration, though he never needed either with her. Her hands immediately slid up under his shirt and pushed it off. He still looked the same as he did before, only slightly more toned. She always liked the way he looked before, even if he didn't. The same was felt on both sides._

_He paused and hovered over her, a small grin crossing his lips. "There's a five-dollar fee for looking," he teased, gently tucking her hair back. She playfully slapped his chest. "Oh, hush," she said. Before he knew it, she rolled them over and his lips formed into an "o" shape. "What're you…" She pressed her finger to his lips, forcing him to be quiet. She bent down a bit, tantalizingly close to his lips. "Shh," she said. "Just…just lay there." She realized how weird it sounded. She shrugged it off before she leaned down and began kissing his neck. His natural reaction would have been to shove her off and head for the hills, but they were in a big city now, and him running down the street in his boxers with a…well, you know, probably would have not looked good on his criminal record. He swallowed and nodded, his cheeks reddening. She grinned, feeling that her plan was working. It usually didn't take much time at all, and she liked being able to do that to him._

_Slowly, her tiny hands found their way downward and she ridded him of his camos. Too bad, too, because he looked really good in those. He realized that he was still in his jacket and sat up, starting to take it off before she forced him back down. "Leave that on," she instructed. This was either an obvious fantasy of hers, or she was just really in the mood. Either way, he wasn't complaining. He nodded a bit and laid back on his back. "You look beautiful, by the way. I didn't get to tell you that earlier." He chuckled. "I guess I could have, but you know, my head was just spinning in ten-thousand different directions and…" She leaned down and kissed him again, his hands naturally finding their way to her skirt and removing it for her._

_Soon, the romantics were underway. The neighbors, if they had any, were probably amused and confused. Thank God her apartment was reasonably-sized and they were finally able to afford curtains. Given their lack of…er…intimacy in the past few months, both of them had to learn to pace themselves. Finn could have nailed her to a wall - no pun intended - while Rachel could have thrown him on the counter and gone to town. But neither of them did that. It was a very slow process, but neither were complaining._

_A few short hours of this passed and they were both passed out, at least mentally. He laid there, his jacket having been stripped about twenty minutes in. It was easier to move without it off, at least at that pace. He covered her with it before he laid on his back, resting an arm behind his head. He peeked down at her, her head resting on his collarbone. "Rach?" he asked, their legs entangled with themselves and endless blankets. "Are you all right?" He sighed, still catching his breath. "Pretty sure you hit a high-G," he joked. "I didn't even know there was such a thing." Both of them shared a laugh and she leaned up, kissing his cheek. "I would say it was a high-B," she mumbled before laying her head back down, her eyes half-closed with sleepiness._

"_You never did that with him, did you?"_

"_It was never even on my mind, Finn."_

"_Good…'cause I kind of like me being the only person to see that side of you. I mean, I guess the naked side."_

_She looked up at him and glared for a moment. "Or the intimate side," she said to correct him. He grinned, knowing that would make her angry. "You're cute when you're mad," he said, tucking her hair back some more. He continued to rub her leg with his foot, his breath slowing a little. "You tired?" he asked, his hand having moved to her back to rub it affectionately. "You can go to sleep, you know. I won't leave, even if I have to piss like a race horse."_

_His analogy confused her, but she simply smiled. "Thank you," she said, her fingers gently raking over his skin. "Hey, Rachel? One last thing." She looked up at him expectantly. "I love you," he said with a smile. It was met with hers. "I love you, too, Finn."_


End file.
